


The Light In My Darkness

by Morgan_Inkeye



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Doomed Love, Feelings, Last Time, M/M, Melkor-centered, Pre-War Of Wrath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 08:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13783851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Inkeye/pseuds/Morgan_Inkeye
Summary: Sleepless and weary, Melkor understands that little time is left before the end.





	The Light In My Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I hope you enjoy your read :)   
> Warning : tears, feels, and hopelessness. With some smut.

   That night again, Melkor laid awake in darkness. These nights of unrest had become an habit to him, and it had been several months he had not had a full night of sleep. He stared at the black, polished ceiling, and at the reflected shimmer of the two gems of his crown.

He was not cold, neither warm. He felt numb, as though smothered under a heavy shroud. He sighed longly, and shut his eyes for a moment. Sleep would not come, tonight again. It would only be through exhaustion, both physical and mental, that he would find rest. And he knew that soon, he would sleep as much as he wished.

With every passing day, he felt weaker. His power was decreasing, it was fading away, just as the waning glow of cold embers. There was no point in trying to sleep. Though his eyes felt sore, and ached, closing them was no use. There was something that snatched peace away from him, as sharp talons clutching at his heart.

Melkor rolled on his side. He faced the sleeping shape next to him. Mairon was breathing slowly, calmly. His features were a picture of perfect tranquility. How innocent, how pure did he look... Melkor smiled at this image of a mock-angel, and reached out to gently stroke his cheek. Mairon stirred in his sleep. He shifted, and moved closer to Melkor, who pulled him against his chest.

At least he could focus on something else, now. Mairon's heartbeat echoed with his own, and this slow, steady rhythm somehow calmed him down a little. The Maia's unique, peculiar warmth probably played a part too. But sleep came still not, and Melkor remained awake.

For some reason, holding Mairon here, so close, made him... sad. In his core it roused some dark and deep thing, as a bottomless ocean of grey. And the tide was rising, spreading inside of him until it swallowed him whole.

Was it despair, hopelessness ? This would be unlikely. They had won the last battle, and presently had the upper hand on their enemies. The lineage of Fëanor was far from being a threat any longer – only two of his sons remained alive. What could two miserable Elves do ? Those unfortunate brothers had no one on their side. None would be foolish enough to rally to their pathetic oath.

And for what was of the Valar, they cared little for what occured in Middle-Earth. If they had wanted to destroy him, they would have thrown their fury upon him long ago...

So, why was he feeling this way ?

He held Mairon closer. Was there only an answer to his sudden sorrow ? There could be one, indeed. One he had been denying for far too long.

The end was nigh. Melkor knew not when, neither how it would take place, yet he was certain of one thing : a great battle – his _last_ battle would come soon. He would not be victorious, neither given another chance. The other Valar would destroy Angband, and they would cast him away beyond the doors of Night. There he would dim and die, and over the Void he would float for ever.

His chest clenched. It was the familiar, shameful grasp of _fear_ that seized him.

Melkor tightened his embrace again, and endeavoured to focus only on Mairon : his heartbeat, his breath. His warm, smooth skin, his... voice.

Mairon had called his name in a whisper. He was now looking up at him, and their eyes locked. There was a long moment of silence, until Melkor decided to break it.

 

''- Did I wake you up ?'' he asked, careful not to let his tone betray his concern.

 

''- Not really,'' Mairon shook his head.

 

Melkor frowned. His Maia, eyes cast down, sighed longly. He slipped away from Melkor's embrace, and laid next to him on his back. Mairon was searching for words, the Vala could tell.

 

''- I dreamt of a rising tide,'' Mairon said at last. ''I was about to be submersed by monstrous waves, and my joy had no equal – I was convinced I would die. I would be reunited with you.'' he paused. He took a deep breath, and turned his head to Melkor. ''Will it happen ? Will you die before me, and leave me...'' his eyes were glistening. ''Will you leave me alone ?''

 

Melkor sat up, he could not meet his his eyes. Mairon was no fool – of course he could feel the end coming, too. Foresight was not his Maia's domain of predilection. Yet Melkor remembered, when he came back from Valinor to Angband, that Mairon told him he had dreamt of Utumno's destruction. Mairon's visions could be trusted.

Melkor had promised him they would be _together_ until their end. He still could see himself, holding Mairon's hands as he had sworn him they would watch the world burn, side by side. He had spoken of glory, of a new world shaped accordingly to _their_ vision.

How ridiculous was he. He could not even keep the promises he had made to his most precious one, to his _only_ one.

He felt Mairon's arms wrapping around his chest, and his warm head against his back.

 

''-Is it why you do not sleep anymore ?'' Mairon asked, though it was no question.

 

Melkor caressed his Maia's slim hands, and took one to kiss it. He held it close to his mouth, enjoying for a few seconds the scent of Mairon's skin.

 

''- Tell me, Melkor. Are we close to the dusk of our time ?''

 

The Vala did not answer. He turned around and embraced Mairon, as tightly as he could, and he heard him let out a long, chilling sigh.

 

''- Mine is,'' Melkor said at his ear. ''But you will escape, and survive.''

 

Mairon nodded sadly, but he spoke not. His breath was uneven and he shook lightly. Melkor disengaged, just enough to touch his Maia's forehead with his own. He smiled at him, and cupped Mairon's face, brushing away with his thumbs the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Mairon never cried in sorrow – in pain, in pleasure, in anger, yet never _this_ way. These tears of a new kind twisted Mairon's fair features into something heart-wrenching.

 

''- Has not our time lasted long enough ?' Melkor asked. ''Have I not tormented you enough ? Caused you enough pain ?''

 

His eyes ventured down on Mairon's throat, on the scar that was there. This mark had never went away, and the wound it had left on Mairon's pride was even greater. The Maia endeavoured to hide it with high collars, with necklaces, refusing to let this token of weakness be seen by anyone. But as Melkor caressed it now, Mairon threw his head back, offering his neck to his Master. The Vala laid gentle kisses on it, he only slightly brushed on it, coating it with his warm breath. Mairon shivered at the sensation, and he held his Master there, exhaling in relief. Melkor knew how much Mairon feared to disgust him with this scar. But it only reminded him of an unfortunate loss – the Silmaril stolen by that Elf and her companion.

The memory of that day still unsettled his mind. He remembered Mairon coming back at Angband, and pleading for punishment and death, taking responsibility for the loss of his Master's gem. But Melkor had refused to inflict him anything, his fury suddenly fading away at the sight of his Maia, bleeding and pale as death. Something had held him back from punishing Mairon as he claimed to deserve. This feeling that was so _unlikely_ of him – love.

How many of his Valar brethern thought him devoid of it, he wondered. They probably pictured him sitting on his black throne all the time, designing dark schemes and whispering to the shadows... How naïve were they. Perhaps it comforted them somehow, to convince themselves that the Black Foe of the World could feel nothing but hatred. Yet if Manwë had Varda, Melkor had Mairon.

He gently nibbled at the scar, before kissing his Maia with passion. He slowly lowered him down on the bed, and Mairon willingly pulled him atop of him, letting one of his Master's knees part his legs. Mairon wound his arms around Melkor's neck, deepening the kiss. They remained this way for far longer than usual, embracing and caressing each other, yet their passion tasted of tears. It seldom was so gentle. Melkor remembered the first time he had taken his Maia, ages back in Valinor. He had been soft, of course, not wanting to scare nor hurt him. But Mairon's pristine nature had not lingered, and he had quickly become used to the hands of his Master. Often had he come into Melkor's bed by his own will, before they started sharing it.

Yet this time was different. It neither was manipulation nor primal desire. Melkor only wished to feel his Maia's essence merging with his own, perhaps for the last time.

He started to grind themselves together, adopting a rhythm he knew Mairon enjoyed, slow and firm. Each kiss was searing, each touch, each breath oddly felt more intense than usual. But Mairon was getting impatient, he could tell, yet he refused to cause him pain this time. He would take all the time he needed to prepare him.

 

Those who said Melkor was skilled with words, clearly ignored what other _wonders_ his divine tongue could do. Mairon could not – would not keep quiet. He held Melkor down on him, slightly rocking his hips, rolling them accordingly to the rhythm settled by his Master's mouth. Mairon was losing hold, he drowned in such pleasure, in the euphoria of this slick warmth around him, then _into_ him, and at the touch of greyed fingers stroking him, invading him, he gave a long moan. He chanted his lust, eyes closed as he savoured it. His breath was ragged, his pulse deafened him, and he knew that overwhelmed by such delight, he would not last long. He gently tugged at Melkor's hair, pleading him to _wait_ , and the Vala stopped. He was looking up at him, eyes darkened by the same desire that pooled in Mairon. The Maia's lips formed a silent word – _please_ , and Melkor complied. He crawled up on him, and let Mairon knot his legs around his waist, holding both their bodies close. This way Melkor took him, with the Maia's slender shape under his own. The Vala burried his face in Mairon's neck as he sank into him, drawing a moan of pain mingled with pleasure, and Mairon clenched his whole body around him. Melkor bit at his neck, leaving a dark bruise on the scar, and he moved to his jaw, his chin, his lips. Mairon parted them wide, inviting his Master to devour him.

The Vala thrust into him, not so gently as he intended to.

 

''Harder,'' Mairon begged low. ''Harder, harder,'' he repeated erratically, and his voice rose in a moan as Melkor obeyed, holding back no longer.

 

He rammed in mercilessly, now drawing desperate whimpers of ecstatic pain. This tightness, this warmth, this voice so distorsed swallowed his reason whole. Mairon's fingernails were digging into his shoulders, leaving deep dark lines in his flesh, marking him his own. Never had Mairon _dared_ doing it before, no matter what pain _he_ took willingly, he would not inflict any to his Master. But he now felt the forlorn need to leave a trace, to give Melkor something to remember him, once... Mairon clenched his eyes shut.

 

_Once he is gone forever._

 

Would he only have memory left, once breathless in the Void ?

 

''More,'' he demanded, ''Don't stop, don't let me rest, don't hold back,'' he whispered jaggedly. ''Break me, destroy me, I'm Yours, I– '' he was cut off by his own moan, as Melkor stopped moving, burried deep into him against a special spot.

 

Melkor looked at him, at his eyes drowned in tears. He leant on to kiss him as he resumed the rocking of his hips, slower but steadfast. He slid a hand down to stroke him, and it did not take long before Mairon's body clenched desperatly around him. His Maia broke the kiss as he threw his head back, utterly submersed. Melkor beheld this image of perfection – features tensed in rapture, mouth open in an uncontrolled cry. Melkor reached his own peak with one last motion, and muffled his own voice in Mairon's offered neck.

 

They let this moment linger, both unwilling to move. Mairon stroked his Master's hair absently, running his fingers through the long raven locks. He wound one around his hand, and gazed at the contrast between his own paleness and this strand of sheer darkness. Eventually Melkor shifted and propped himself up on one elbow. He posed a chaste kiss on Mairon's lips, and moved to lay aside. Mairon immediatly came to rest against him, refusing to let this moment end.

Melkor wanted to keep this shard of their life with him. This peaceful afterglow, so calm and sweet, so odd to be associated with beings of _darkness_. But Melkor cared not for light neither for darkness anymore, or for anything else. In his heart he felt the end close, so much closer than he thought... But he spoke not of it. He held Mairon tight against him, clinging to him as to hope.

 

''-Whenever my own end might be,'' Mairon sighed. ''I remain yours. No matter how many ages pass...'' he looked up at him. ''I shall set the Undying Lands ablaze, in order to bring you back.''

 

''- I know, Precious,'' he said as he kissed his forehead. ''Your loyalty needs not to be proven.''

 

He spoke no more, and caressed Mairon's hair until the Maia drifted off in slumber. He waited until his breath became slow and regular, until he was certain Mairon was sound asleep. And only then did he pose a long kiss on his cheek, and whispered three words.

 

_I love you._

 

Melkor watched him sleep. Yet as beautiful and calm as Mairon was, this vision only caused him grief. He shed silent tears as memories of their time danced in his mind, and resigned to the unavoidable outcome.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you thought ! I always appreciate having your opinion :)


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